


Crisis of Conscience

by ohmyflavors (hannibae)



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Link, Dirty Talk, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 17:04:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10540770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibae/pseuds/ohmyflavors
Summary: His fingers fumble just a little bit when he goes to undo Rhett’s button. The button and zipper are smaller than he’s particularly used to, his fingers slipping a couple of times. He gets it, finally, when Rhett’s asking, “Need some help?”“I’m fine, thanks,” Link says, and he leans down to bite Rhett through the jeans.





	

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by gmm [1107](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UW1RRm-hLNE)

The camera is barely shut off before he’s dragging Rhett to his feet. He vaguely hears a question, high and breathy and laced with laughter, but he ignores it. He ignores everything but the beeline he’s making for the office.

Halfway through, when they reach the hallway, he angrily kicks off the huge, chunky heels he’s still wearing. And only then does he hear Rhett’s, “Should I take mine off too?”

He’s teasing him, but Link doesn’t care much. So he says, “No,” and keeps tugging him down the hall.

Everyone’s busy, they shouldn’t be bothered. Sill, Link makes sure the door is locked before he leads Rhett to the stairs leading to the loft. The heels still on Rhett’s feet make awkward clunking sounds the whole way up, but he doesn’t care.

Rhett’s laughing. He can hear the soft chuckles, see it in his eyes whenever they finally get up the stairs. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t _care_. Rhett can think this is funny all he wants, he can tease and prod and dig his elbows into Link’s sides in jest to his heart’s desire. Because when Link finally gets his hands on him, Rhett’s half-hard, his chuckles sounding more like a groan when Link’s knuckles brush against him through the impossibly tight pants.

“Sit,” Link says, only a little embarrassed at how breathy it comes out. “Sit, come on. I want to blow you.”

“Would it kill you to say please?”

“I don’t say please,” Link tells him, locking eyes with him. And when Rhett goes to toe the heels off, “Keep those on.”

He gets his hands on Rhett’s hips, pushes at him until he’s falling back into the recliner. Once he’s there, long legs stretching in front of him, knees coming up too high because of the added height from the heels, Link falls to his own knees.

It’s easy to slide his palms up the insides of Rhett’s thighs, listening to the intake of breath it earns him. When Rhett’s hands find his own, guiding them up a little higher, Link can hear how heavy he’s breathing, can feel the muscles twitch under his fingers. Rhett says, “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“We have as much time as I say we have,” Link promises, sliding his hands back down, starting at his knees again. “You just sit there and keep your hands to yourself, okay?”

Rhett hums, settles back down a little more into the chair, and that teasing smirk is back on his lips.

To prove a point, Link pinches him once, hard enough to draw a hiss and a, “Quit it, man!” from Rhett.

“Stop laughin’ at me, then,” Link tells him. But he leans down, presses his cheek into Rhett’s thigh, looking up at him through his lashes. “I’m just here, trying to be nice to you, and you’re being a jerk.”

“How nice are you gonna be, baby?” He’s dropped his voice low, licking his lips, spreading his legs a little more.

“As nice as I always am,” Link says, hands sliding up Rhett’s thighs again, slow and careful like he’d wanted to do before Rhett rushed him through it.

When his fingertips just barely brush against the crease of his thighs, Rhett sucks in a sharp breath. It’s easy, then, to cup a hand over his cock and watch Rhett tip his head back. When he squeezes just a little bit, Rhett’s Adam’s apple bobs with a moan that warms through Link.

His fingers fumble just a little bit when he goes to undo Rhett’s button. The button and zipper are smaller than he’s particularly used to, his fingers slipping a couple of times. He gets it, finally, when Rhett’s asking, “Need some help?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Link says, and he leans down to bite Rhett through the jeans.

“Dang it, Link!” Rhett laughs. There’s a swat that Link dodges, and a, “If you don’t stop hurtin’ me.”

With a breathy laugh of his own, Link finally tugs the jeans down enough to get at Rhett. His underwear is bunched, and his cock is mostly hard. It’s easy to tug the underwear out of the way, get his hand around Rhett. And the sound that rips through Rhett is sweet, high and light, is a punch to Link’s gut.

It’s even sweeter, even higher and lighter when Link presses a kiss to the tip. He can tell Rhett is trying not to buck up, trying to keep his hips still, so Link rewards him with gentle hands, rubbing up the expanse of his thighs while he sinks down a little bit further. He chances a look up, gets to see Rhett lick his lips, the way his eyes have gone dark, how his cheeks are red and flushed.

When he wiggles his tongue, eases further down the length of him, careful to keep his tongue down and his throat open, Rhett lets out a groan. And it’s the only warning Link gets before he’s got two huge hands carding through his hair, fingers gripping and holding Link in place.

He lets him for just a second, a beat, a breath, because Link likes how tight it feels. Link presses up against Rhett’s hands, and is immediately let go, letting him pull off with an obscene slurp in an attempt not to dribble spit all over the place. It only mostly works, and he’s left to wrap his hand around the base of Rhett’s cock, catching the mess. Everything is slick and wet when he works his hand over him a couple of times, listening to the rough sound that falls out of Rhett.

“Good?” Link asks. He’s fishing, but Rhett always talks once he gets started.

He watches Rhett bite his bottom lip, his eyes fluttering shut when Link squeezes a little on the upstroke. Then he gets a chesty, breathy, “Oh gosh, yes.”

With a hum and smile, Link asks, “How good?”

“Fucking perfect,” Rhett whines, rocking his hips up into the circle of Link’s fist.

He’s still wearing the jeans, the heels—shit, his shirt is still mostly tucked in—and Link sits back on his heels to get a good look at him.

His hair is a mess from being pressed against the recliner, his cock red and wet in Link’s hand, his legs cased in soft, tight jeans, his calves muscles still flexed because of the heels. He’s flushed from his cheeks to his neck, and, Link’s willing to bet, probably even further than that. He looks _good_. He looks so fucking good.

And, just like Link thought, when he leans back in, get his mouth on him again, Rhett babbles, “So good, Link. _Fuck_.”

His fingers find their way into Link’s hair again, and tug this time, getting a good grip on him while he swallows around Rhett’s cock. Tingles roll down his spine when Rhett says, “Fuck, you look so good with my dick in your mouth.”

His hips jerk up, and Link’s eyes water. But he swallows again, listens to the groan Rhett lets out.

When he pulls off, Rhett surges down, meets him halfway for a kiss that’s wet and deep and wracking through Link hard and fast, like Rhett in those godforsaken jeans did earlier. He pulls away, says, “You got lotion in here?”

“Think so,” Rhett tells him, and Link’s off of him in seconds, heading down the stairs to save time, knowing there’s a container of Vaseline at his desk.

It only takes him a couple of moments to stumble his way back up the stairs. Even so, he’s met with the sight of Rhett spread out just a little more, hand slowly jerking himself off, eyes heavy, bottom lip between his teeth. Link catches himself standing in place, free hand sliding down his own thigh, eyes wide while he watches.

He says, “You’re so greedy, Rhett. Couldn’t even wait just a few seconds?”

“Too long,” Rhett says, groaning when he thumbs over the head of his cock. “Come here.”

Tugging at his jeans, working them down his legs in a tangle of briefs and denim all being wrenched down at once, Link makes his way back over. He tosses the container onto Rhett’s chest, says, “Get yourself nice and slick while I get out of these.”

It takes him a second, and he can’t keep his eyes off of Rhett, watching him dip a couple of fingers into the Vaseline before he’s wrapping his fist around himself again. Before he gets further than a gasp, arching up into the feeling of everything being slippery, Link’s crawling up onto him, legs bracketing either side of his hips.

Rhett’s grinning sweetly at him, using his clean hand to pull Link down to him, pressing their mouths together, a distraction so he can press a slick finger to Link’s hole. It’s nice, feels good to have him press inside slowly, easily, with just one finger, but Link’s feeling impatient.

Licking past the seam of Rhett’s lips just to hear him gasp, he pulls away. He says, “Just fuck me.”

Before Rhett can protest, Link pulls him in for another kiss.

He’s wanted this since he saw Rhett in these jeans, since they played that stupid game, since Rhett hit him the first time. So when he feels Rhett slip his finger out, feels him line up the blunt head of his cock instead, he lets out a sigh, thick and loud.

Rhett usually likes to draw things out, likes the press into Link with three fingers until he’s writhing down against him. He likes to makes Link ask for it, pressing kisses along his collarbones while he twists his fingers up cruelly. It’s a revelation, a fucking _gift_ , when he just lets Link sit on his cock, lets him rock his hips down in little circles until they’re flush.

Link catches the way his eyes flutter shut, how he swallows hard and arches up under Link’s body. It would be a shame to pass up an opportunity to clench down around him, pull a loud, filthy-sounded moan out of him, so he does.

He’s rewarded with a firm smack, much like the ones for the episode. Only when this one lands, it’s right on the meaty part of his bare ass, and it’s followed with a, “ _Fuck_ , Link.” He feels his cock twitch, feels the fluttering in his guts.

The angle is weird in this chair, but he manages, lifts himself up and slowly rocks back down. Rhett greedily grinds up against him, hitting him just right. He feels so full, so good, and when Rhett slides a hand under his shirt, gets at his chest with blunt nails, it’s even better.

They find a rhythm that’s a little choppy and awkward, but it works. God, it works. Link feels his hands start to shake, his breathing speeding up every time he rocks himself back down. He gets his hands on the back of the recliner for leverage, feels Rhett’s hands land on his hips, fingers digging in.

Link’s resolve breaks just a little bit, and he says, “God, you’re so big, Rhett.”

“Yeah?” Rhett asks, breathy and just a hint of laughter dancing along the edges. He’s grinning when he says, “My big cock filling you up how you wanted, baby?”

This is always Link’s favorite part. When Rhett starts talking, it stokes a fire in his belly, spurs him on even more. It never takes long to get him started, to have him whispering in Link’s ear about how good he feels, how tight he is, how he wants to spread him out and fuck him for hours.

They actually are short on time, though, and Link knows this. He can’t drag it out like he wants, can’t slow his hips and see how much more he can get Rhett to confess. So instead, he works his hips in circles, leans in to slot their mouths together again for a slow, sweet kiss that leaves him groaning.

Rhett tells him, “Gosh, you feel so good, baby.”

“I’m so close.” He feels it starting in his belly, hot and twisting, and if Rhett just shifts a little bit, if he leans in and sinks his teeth into his collarbone, if he scrapes his fingers over his nipple, he’ll be there. What he gets instead is Rhett’s huge hand wrapping around his cock gently, fingers brushing against his balls in a tease.

“Come on,” Rhett’s saying under his breath, a murmur, a beg, a prayer, Link doesn’t know. But his mouth is working around the sounds quickly before Link finally leans down and smashes their mouths together when he comes, trying to muffle the whine that punches out of him.

He feels himself start to tremble, and Rhett’s hands find their way to his hips again. “Link,” he says, voice low and raspy. “Oh, fuck.”

“Come on, baby,” Link tells him, hearing his words slur. “Wanna feel you fill me up, Rhett.”

Rhett’s whole body arches up when he comes, fingers digging into Link’s hips hard enough to bruise, his head falling back against the headrest. His neck bared, Link leans forward and presses wet, sloppy kisses there while they both come down, catch their breath.

He curls into Rhett, putting his head on his shoulder with a soft laugh. Now that they’re here, covered in sweat and come, Rhett still in those too-tight jeans and his heels, Link feels a little bashful at how he came across. Only just a little, though. He can certainly recall a few times where Rhett reacted similarly about things.

Still, he says, “Sorry about practically dragging you off set caveman style.”

Rhett chuckles, a hand coming out to card through Link’s hair. “It’s okay. I just think I’ll be wearing these jeans again.” He waggles his eyebrows.

“Maybe just not at work,” Link suggests with a laugh. And then, when the realization hits, he says, “We should get them dry-cleaned first.”


End file.
